The Diaries
by kattykitty
Summary: Months after leaving Starbug, Rimmer returns for a flying visit only to find that a few major things have changed. Faced with Kochanski, forced to play out his new role as Ace and finding Lister more than a little distant, Rimmer seeks to find answers. When Lister offers none, where else should he look but Lister's diary? Rated T for eventual slash! R&R!
1. Chapter 1

_**When Arnold Rimmer left to become Ace, life went on for the crew - Kochanski arrived, Rimmer grew a backbone far away from Starbug and Lister had THAT DREAM. Months later, the new Ace arrives back on Starbug for a flying visit only to find that things are rather different to how he left them, including himself. Also, why is Lister acting so smegging awkward all of a sudden?!**_

_**Rated T for now, possibly to be upgraded at a later date; slashiness is likely to ensue, so steer clear if you're not down with the guy love. It'll probably only be a little ficlet, a few chapters at most, but reviews are enocuraged and appreciated!  
**_

* * *

He knew it wasn't likely that this was the best idea he'd ever had in his life, but after what felt like years of being the ultimate hero of the universe – and yes, someone _had_ called him that and, yes, he had gleefully revisited the moment on multiple occasions when alone and able to have some time to himself – Ace Rimmer felt it was high time he took that first step forwards and meet the old team as the new man he was. Or, in the very least, the man he had been trying to become.

As he prepared to phase, an odd jolt of nerves shooting through him at the mere idea of what he was about to do, he took a moment to reflect upon the time spent apart from them. He still wasn't quite sure of his new identity, the man known to everyone as 'Ace Rimmer – what a guy!' and had, in rare moments of nostalgia, wished just once to hear someone call him Arnold, Arn, Arnie or (and it pained him to even consider it) a right royal smeghead. He smiled slightly to himself as he pulled his jacket to fit perfectly against his frame, remembering how it had felt to leave Starbug the first time as an arrogant, smarmy coward and appear elsewhere as a man renowned for his chivalry, generosity of spirit and all-round ladies man... it had been a startling change, one he'd had to adapt to with barely a moment's notice. Funnily enough, once he'd got the accent sorted – something that came as naturally as breathing now – everything had seemed to fall into place and cemented, with alarming clarity, the notion that he was reborn and could never go back. Arnold was dead: Ace lived on.

Patting the back of his wig one last time, he forced a nod, the words that he wasn't too sure he truly meant falling from his lips.

"All right. I'm ready."

* * *

And, just like that, he was home. No, wait... he couldn't think like that anymore, it wasn't his home any more than a planet a thousand light-years away was home – it had to be a flying visit, a brief interlude that he could look back on with fond memories and nothing more. The minute he started to call Starbug home was the minute he would return to the man of limited substance that he had been before. Regardless of the fact that he had been born as Arnold, he had to accept that by becoming Ace he was essentially changing his entire lifeline. Probably his lifespan, too.

He took it in slowly, the familiar surroundings more welcoming to him than he had expected. It was still in startling disarray, objects thrown haphazardly around the corridor for people to trip over as soon as an emergency presented itself; a tiny smile twitched upon his lips as he came across a pair of boots that could only belong to Lister, unlaced and in blatant need of being thrown out into the depth of space but, then, they wouldn't be Lister's if they looked brand new. It felt oddly soothing to know that things had not changed so much as he had somehow expected, that it was exactly as he had left it -

But, no. That was wrong. Ace's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the sight of the shoes next to Lister's, looking as shiny and well-kept as Lister's looked in disrepair and, quite frankly, an experiment in bacteria. Unless Kryten or – slightly more likely – Cat had decided to take up cross-dressing, the red patent pumps were a clear indicator that somewhere along the line during the space of time he had been away, a woman had moved into Starbug and was now comfortable enough to cast her shoes aside next to Lister's.

_Against_ Lister's.

The tiny forming of a knot began to take shape in Rimmer's stomach.

Forcing himself to move on, he stepped through the doors and into the control room; again he felt it wash over him, the warm sensation of being somewhere he had always been accepted (even if he hadn't always been wanted) coinciding with the threads of anticipation he had experienced before phasing. He cast his eyes around the room, drinking in every detail in the way he had not had time to do when he'd left all that time ago, breathing in the musty air and letting it fill his lungs to bursting point. He advanced slowly, wondering at the silence, wandering down memory lane as easily as if he were still marooned in the vessel with the others.

Rimmer's mind flitted back to the pair of pumps in the corridor. Of course. It could never be as it was again.

Then again, he mused, letting his fingers brush idly over the chair he had once sat in himself, it didn't necessarily mean that the visitor was staying _forever_ as he had once imagined would be his own past, present and future; perhaps this woman had been rescued by the group on a salvage mission, picked up and offered a bed until returning her to her home planet or place of existence – surely that was more likely than them taking on a new crew member? Not that it would be so surprising if they had recruited someone new as they had always worked so well as a four (or at least as well as four people as different as chalk, cheese, night and day could work well together) and so perhaps, he allowed, this woman was there to stay.

He hoped she was old.

As Ace passed through the door leading towards the living quarters he rolled his eyes, wondering in exasperation at their lack of security – the door was wedged open with shoe for goodness sake, another one of Lister's if the smell was anything to go by. He gently kicked aside an empty cigarette packet with the toe of his boot before doubling back to pick it up, turning it over in his hands and simultaneously feeling warmth and derision, a feeling he had become well-accustomed to in the later days of being with the crew. Keeping a hold of the cardboard and continuing his journey, he soon found himself standing in front of the kitchen area doors – sound drifted through, the deep and courteous tones of Kryten mixed with the American, slightly nasal twang of Cat. He waited for a few more moments, trying to sift through the voices until he could hear a lazy Liverpudlian drone but failed to find one; instead he was greeted by an unmistakeably feminine voice, well-spoken and with a clear but understated thread of condescension. Hesitation leaking all too easily into his veins, he leaned in towards the door, trying to hear what she was saying so that he could grasp the mood of the situation within before entering as Ace.

"...wrong, Kryten, it's not what I was brought up to do."

"I just can't understand it, I simply cannot fathom how an individual could be so unable to grasp a simple concept! I of course wish to respect your own opinions, but here on this ship we do things a certain way and this is something I _cannot_ compromise on!"

Rimmer's eyebrow raised of its own accord, intrigued. The female voice sighed.

"Is it really that important to you? It tastes the same either way."

Kryten's own voice was clearly beyond grumpy. "You're wrong, Miss Kochanski, completely and utterly incorrect! Forgive me for saying so, but the very idea that ketchup tastes the same unrefrigerated as it does refrigerated is just beyond me! It's like the salad cream all over again, and I'm just not sure how much more of this I can take!"

The strangest twist of jealousy, the very last emotion he had expected to feel whilst being back; Kochanski? _Kristine_ Kochanski? The woman Lister had lusted after for years despite having barely said two words to her? The woman that he himself had refused to allow Lister to see as a replacement to his own Hologram? She was the one that had replaced him _now_?

It made perfect sense. Stupid, perfect, womanly, replacementy sense.

"Come on Acey boy," he muttered to himself, the accent he had taken on as the hero giving him a slight boost of courage, "no point hanging on out here like a sissy. Get in there."

No sooner had he spoken, the door flew open – "Do what you want, Kryten, for – oh!" - and he found himself faced with her, perfect hair, flawless skin and head to toe in red material almost as shiny as his own outfit. They stared at one another, mutual curiosity abound, until suddenly her face lit up with an alarmingly friendly smile, eyes glittering with recognition; he found himself leaning back ever so slightly at the warmth that radiated from her, a strange bubble of unease in his stomach as she spoke.

"Ace Rimmer! What a long time it's been since I've seen _you_!"

His mouth dropped open in surprise, barely able to match up the words to her meaning... so, clearly she had met him previously. Which could only mean one thing.

She was very much alive.

Her smile turned slightly quizzical as he failed to respond; with a jerk, he brought himself back to the present and forced a jovial smile.

"Kristine, my god you're a sight for sore eyes. How on earth have you been, you beautiful creature?" Rimmer cringed inwardly at his enthusiasm, hoping he hadn't overdone it and that she wouldn't think he was the completely inappropriate arse as he now felt; he watched, distinctly uncomfortable, as a slight flush worked its way into her cheeks at the Ace Rimmer sexual magnetism he was still so unused to giving off.

"I've been... well, I'm here, so clearly things aren't as they should be." Her voice became quiet, confidential. "Life has taken quite a turn for me as I'm sure you can tell. I hardly planned on dimension jumping."

Dimension jumping... so she was a Kristine from a parallel universe, a Kochanski that had survived the radiation leak and was very much as real as he was not. It explained a lot, though it did nothing to make him feel any more at ease. He'd have to play along as if it made sense rather than ask the questions that were crowding his mind and making him feel much more like Arnold at a time when he had to be as close to the Ace Rimmer he had replaced as possible.

"Of course, of course; terrible business, I'm sure. So sorry to hear you're in a bad place, but at least you're in the capable hands of this crew, eh? Best place to be, top notch company!"

She cast a gaze back to the two men in the room behind her, her nose wrinkling slightly in a way that – had she not been who she was – would have been incredibly endearing.

"Hmm, well, each to their own opinion but in the very least it's a relief to still be alive." She moved to the side as Kryten approached, his hands up in a welcoming gesture as he looked with blatant pleasure at their uninvited guest; quickly she said, "No doubt I'm not the only one pleased to see you here..."

"Mr. Ace sir! What a wonderful surprise, I had no idea you were here!" Kryten reached out, shaking Rimmer's hand with such joy that Ace couldn't help but grin at the mechanoid as he gripped the hand offered with matched strength. "Mr. Lister hadn't told me you were coming – is there a problem?"

Of course he would assume that – why else would the universal epitome of heroism have appeared with no good reason? Ace shook his head, patting his old crewmate's arm and attempting to inject as much confidence as possible into his voice as he responded. "No problem whatsoever, Kryters, just thought I'd pop in and see my old friends. I see you've kept the place in spotless order as always, you're an inspiration to mechanoids everywhere."

"Oh, sir, no need to lie – the place is a complete mess! If I had known you were coming -"

"Nonsense, no need to trouble yourself!"

Cat appeared in the door frame, his pointed teeth glimmering as he offered Ace a wide smile. "Heeey, good lookin', what're you doing here? I would've dressed up a little more if someone had told me you'd be stopping by!"

"Cat, you handsome son of a gun, you're looking sharper than ever! I can see you got to the stylist I set you up with...?" Rimmer inwardly congratulated himself on remembering the final words the previous Ace had said to the vain man, grasping the carefully groomed hand offered to him and squeezing it tightly. "With hair as smooth as that that you'd put a silkworm out of business!"

Reaching up and patting said hair with a self-satisfied smile, Cat nodded. "You know what I always say, buddy – if you've got it, flaunt it! And you know I've got it! Aint my problem that no one else here has my timeless sense of style!"

Ace boomed out a short laugh, clapping Cat on the back. "You said it, fella. Good to see you, good to see you!"

Having watched the three of them get reacquainted, Kochanski inserted herself back into the conversation, placing her hand lightly on his forearm. "Are you staying for dinner, Ace?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose -"

"Nonsense, sir!" Kryten interrupted, gesturing towards the room with an almost desperate air. "It's been a long time since I've had an excuse to make an effort, and now that you're here I'm going to take it with both hands! Please, come and sit down, let me make you a drink of something hot."

* * *

The next few hours passed far more easily than Rimmer was expecting. Once he had settled into his alter-ego and the others were clearly convinced of his identity he found himself regaling them the stories of his adventures, proudly speaking of the daring destruction of his adversaries with a wonderfully hazy sense of jubilation; never had he imagined he would be able to truthfully speak of his bravery to these people and have them believe him instantaneously. All those years of hugely embellishing his successes – not that there were many of them – were suddenly blown away in he light of his very real journey as Ace Rimmer. For the first time since he had taken on the responsibility of the previous owner of the name, he felt as if it belonged to him completely. He looked upon the awed faces of Kryten, Cat and Kochanski and knew he had changed for the better, knew that whatever he had been before was nothing compared to what he was now.

It was a glorious feeling.

"It's a shame Dave isn't here to hear all this," Kochanski said with a wide smile, taking a sip of water. "You know how much he always admired you."

He instantly knew she was referring to her Dave who, after a few of Kochanski's own stories, he now was aware was the Hologram he himself had been to Lister – well, with a few obvious differences. Where Kristine and her Lister had become romantically involved, he could only just barely say that he and his version of Lister were something akin to friends... though whether that was really true he didn't know. The eulogy Lister had given at his own funeral had clearly stated that they were indeed friends, but it still was something he couldn't quite admit to, especially after so much time away from the technician.

"Damn shame," he said, holding up his own glass of scotch and raising it in honour of the man she so obviously pined for. "I would've liked to have seen him for myself." Taking a drink alongside the others, he felt it was finally time to bring it up, finally time to ask the question he'd wanted to ask since arriving. "So, speaking of which, where's your Dave?" He directed the question towards Kryten, trying as hard as he could to sound casual. "Out cavorting with the ladies?"

He couldn't fail to notice Kochanski stiffen slightly at his words, looking at him with an almost stern glaze as Kryten replied, "Well, sir, I can only assume that he's in his bunk. He's been immersed recently in reading Mr. Rimmer's old diaries."

Now it was _his_ turn to stiffen. "He's been reading my diaries?"

They all stared at him. Oh hell, he'd slipped up a little too easily there. "Begging your pardon sir, I was referring to the deceased Mr. Rimmer's diaries. I wasn't aware that you'd _written_ any, but I'm sure they're absolutely fascinating."

"Right you are, Kryters. I must admit, I'm not the kind to reflect on my sort of lifestyle -" which was a complete lie, he often found himself jotting down the basic details of each adventure of an evening, " - but every now and then one has the urge to, uh, look back at the details with a sense of... hoping to learn something." He was stumbling and he knew it, caught in the crossfire of his own stupidity. "Never mind that, though – maybe I should drop in on the guy, see what the best third technician in space has been doing whilst I've been gone."

Kryten stood instantly, tucking his chair under the table. "Of course, I should have offered earlier. Let me escort you to his room -"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Rimmer quickly interjected, putting his hand out to stop the mechanoid and standing up with a forced careless smile. "I know my way around well enough!"

"Well, if you're _sure_, sir!"

"Certainly," he reassured, picking up his glass to take with him. "I know you'll want to get on with making those dumplings I've heard so much about."

Flashing one last winning smile at the group and hoping they wouldn't discuss the whole awkward diary issue once he had left, he backed out of the kitchen and started to make his way down to where his old room had been; he breathed out a heavy sigh of relief, only realising as he came to stand opposite the door that in the last thirty seconds he had felt more under pressure than he had since he'd last left the spacecraft to become his opposite... god, that was all too close a shave. He could have given it all away, disappointed all of them in one ridiculous sweep...

And now he was about to face the one person who knew exactly who he was. The smeg-up wouldn't have surprised Lister at all.

Taking in a deep breath, he reached up and rapped his knuckles lightly against the door. Slight movement met his ears, before -

"Smeggin' hell. Unlock!"

The door slid open unceremoniously, revealing a scene that was so familiar it momentarily depleted Rimmer of oxygen: nothing had changed, not one thing. Possessions littered the room, socks and pants discarded in corners; Lister's guitar lazed against the corner of the bottom bunk, dusty but well-used, a couple of plectrums scattered haphazardly beside it as if the owner had not long been playing on the wretched thing. Ace felt his stomach swoop as he took in the sight of his old bunk, the bedding unchanged, so conspicuously untouched by anyone since he had 'died'... had it been Lister's decision to leave it this way? He was, admittedly, surprised that Kochanski was not living in here, his expectations of the two's relationship clearly much mistaken. The alleviation of he envy he had been fighting since first glimpsing Kristine's pumps in the corridor was almost worrying.

And there he was, his old bunkmate, laid out on his own messy bed holding a notebook so close to his face that Rimmer was surprised he could read it at all. He recognised the leather-bound book as his first diary written since becoming a hard-light Hologram, stuffed full of clippings and articles about people with his own first and/or last name – god, he had been embarrassingly sad, hadn't he? Though he knew taking on a personality that was not technically his own wasn't quite as impressive as being that man all along, seeing the newspaper pieces poking out of the pages made him cringe at the visual reminder of who he had been and how little he had thought of himself, so much so that he had clung onto the great things that others holding his name had done.

Lister did not look up, obviously immersed. "Is dinner ready?"

Ace cleared his throat; his voice came out as a rumble, almost unrecognisable as he adjusted to using his old voice. "Hello, Listy."

Lister's response, when it came, was not what Rimmer had expected; a smile, perhaps, Lister leaping from the bed to give him a slap on the back, even a hug, sure, but as Lister dropped the diary on his face and jerked upright to meet Rimmer's warm gaze, the look of horror that spread across his features was enough to make Ace's body freeze with uncertainty. The two of them stared at each other for almost five whole seconds, Lister's mouth working furiously as his mind hastened to catch up with what he was seeing... Rimmer couldn't understand it, couldn't fathom why the man was looking so hideously alarmed at his entrance. Were his diaries that bad a read? Should he have not come here?

He had to break the silence, so awkward as it was. "Enjoying the invasion of my privacy?"

"I... what are you doing here?" Lister sounded almost breathless, confusion tweaking at his usually warm timbre.

Rimmer frowned. "Should I leave...?"

"No, no!" The third technician threw the diary down, shifting so that his legs hung from the bunk bed but not climbing down; something about his hesitation made Ace's head swim. "I just didn't... who invited you here?"

Ace's frown deepened. "Well, nobody, I just decided to drop in for a flying visit. Is that a problem?"

Lister shook his head, though the slightly troubled glaze to his eyes contradicted his next words. "No, of course not, it's... it's good to see you, man. It's just a little unexpected, that's all."

"Don't tell me you would've changed into something more presentable," Rimmer joked, forcing for the third time that day a smile that did not quite fit with how he was feeling. "Cat's already changed his suit twice since I got here!"

Looking at him strangely, Lister did not return the smile. "You've already seen the others? You've seen..." A look of realisation followed by an awkward deviation of his gaze, away from his old room mate. "You've seen our new crew-member then."

Suddenly awkward himself, particularly with the distance between them, Rimmer took a few steps forward. He did not fail to notice Lister shifting backwards across his bed, further from him. His chest tightened. "She's quite a woman."

"That's one way of putting it."

Bewilderment flickered across Ace's face, overwhelmingly concerned by Lister's tone. "You don't like her? That's quite a chance of tune, don't you think?"

Shrugging as if it meant nothing, Lister began to pick at his trousers in a gesture that Rimmer recognised as discomfort. He took another step forward, deciding to change the subject – Kochanski was clearly off-limits.

"So, is it a good read?"

Lister looked up. "What?"

"My diary. Are you finding it... illuminating?"

For the first time since Rimmer had entered the room, the ghost of a smile flitted across Lister's lips. "It's a good exercise in reminding me what a smeghead you are." He checked himself, shaking his head slightly. "Sorry. Were."

Encouraged by the smile, Ace took a quick sip of his drink before responding with a laugh. "Trust me, my transformation is hardly complete. I'm still the smeghead you knew and hated, no matter how many damsels in distress I save."

"There a lot of them, are there?"

"Not so many that I've lost track, but not so few that I'm without company of an evening." Ace stopped, wishing for an unknown reason that he had not made this allusion to his sex life. "What I mean is -"

"Don't try and take it back now," Lister interrupted with another small smile. "I would've thought you'd be dying to tell me about your most recent conquests."

"Believe me, it's not as many as I'd like to pretend. There seems something almost..._ morally delinquent_ about shagging someone who hours before was at their most vulnerable."

Again Lister seemed somewhat confused, tilting his head to the side as he allowed his gaze to meet Rimmer's again. "Says the man who had sex with Yvonne McGruder when she was barely conscious!"

"Yes, well..." It was suddenly awkward again. "I wasn't exactly the most morally reputable man back then, was I? Believe it or not, I _have_ changed." Seeing Lister's eyes narrow slightly, Ace took another step forward, intent on convincing his old crew-mate of the truth of his words. "Really, Lister. I'm not who I used to be."

He followed the movement of Lister's hand as it reached down to pluck the diary from its place beside his leg; the man raised it into the air, making a point. "I know. I can tell."

Was that disappointment Rimmer could hear? Surely not. "Listen, Listy... Dave..." The name felt bizarre on his tongue, foreign. "I want to thank you for that."

"For what? Reading your diary?"

Ace let out a short laugh, his thumb absent-mindedly sliding along the rim of his glass as he shook his head. "No, not for that – not that it matters if you read them or not. They're Arnold's, after all, and... well, he's not coming back to claim them."

Something in Lister's gaze tightened. He'd said something wrong. Quickly, Rimmer intercepted the moment and continued with what he'd originally planned to say.

"What I mean to say is... thank you for what you did. When I... when _he_ died. Encouraging me to do this. For giving me the strength to take on this responsibility, I can't ever thank you enough. You did me a great service that day."

Lister shrugged again, his fingers tracing over the leather on the journal. "It's no problem, man. Anyone in my shoes would've done the same."

Without even thinking it through, Rimmer found himself closing the distance between the two of them until he was standing next to the bed, as close as he had been to Lister since he had hugged him on the day he had been speaking of. He had to do this right, say it right so that Lister truly understood.

"Anyone may have indeed, but... what I mean is..." He braced himself, determined not to let the old coward in him get the upper hand. "Lister, what I mean is that I'm glad it was you. I'm glad it was you that had the faith in me enough to show me what I could become."

For a moment it seemed that Dave would not respond, his body reacting as it had done before and leaning away from the closeness – had Rimmer made a mistake? Was his belief that he had once been the closest thing Lister had to a friend, in fact, completely incorrect? They had hugged before, touched before, been in close quarters for years, so what was different now? Why did Lister seem intent on keeping his distance?

But, just as Ace was considering moving back to his place by the door, Lister slowly leaned back into the position as before, leaning even further forward as he came rest with his forearms on his thighs; he looked at Rimmer with perhaps a fraction of the warmth that he had looked upon the man all those months ago as they'd bid each other goodbye, a half-smile turning the edges of his lips up as he nodded once.

"Yeah. I'm glad too, Rimmer man. Really."

The two of them looked at each other for a moment, a warm flood of relief surging through Ace at this apparent return to normalcy. Maybe he had had it all wrong.

Lister spoke again. "And I'm glad you're happy. You deserve to be happy now."

_...do I?_

"Thanks, Listy," he said quietly, raising his glass in a one-man toast and taking a sip, looking away from Lister as he did so. "And what about you, are you happy? Kochanski's back, Starbug is as it ever was, you have this room all to yourself..." He grinned, surprised at his desperation that Lister agree that all was as it should be. "It must be as you want it?"

The look Lister gave him was unreadable. "It sounds that way, doesn't it?"

Alarm bells rang in Rimmer's head; he was well aware that Lister had not answered his question and, when combined with the strained awkwardness of their conversation and the odd feeling that somewhere along the way he had missed something of great importance, he was convinced that he had a lot more to find out before he could leave. "Listy..."

"Let's go to the kitchen, yeah?" Lister suddenly said, hopping down from his bunk and quickly moving away from Rimmer and towards a pile of clothes thrown helplessly in the far left-hand corner of the room; he did not meet Rimmer's eyes. "You go on ahead and I'll get changed. Kryten will kill me if I turn up for dinner with the great Ace Rimmer in this t-shirt."

Something in his tone warned Rimmer not to pursue both the question unanswered and the almost mocking tone in which he had said Rimmer's new identity, and for now – because it _would_ be revisited later and he _would_ get an answer out of the third techie – he allowed it to slide.

"All right. I'll see you in there?"

Lister did not turn, seemingly intent on rifling through the pile of clothes. "Sure."

Rimmer slowly turned and left the room, once more wondering if he had made a huge mistake in returning here.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thank you for your reviews and interest so far; it's greatly appreciated and, as ever, I'm enjoying every minute I spend writing, not to mention watching as much RD as I can in the meantime! ;) Onto the next...**_

* * *

Dinner was an interesting affair, to say the least. After Rimmer's awkward exit from Lister's room he'd had doubts about how the rest of the evening would continue, but when Lister had eventually joined all of them at the kitchen table (in an almost-clean t-shirt and different trousers) he was relieved to find that it was as if nothing had even occurred between them. He'd walked into the room with a cheery comment about only getting decent dinners when a celebrity was in their midst and instantly engaged the group in a conversation about Rimmer's diaries, quoting his favourite parts so far and encouraging the general consensus that Arnold Rimmer had been, without doubt, the King of all Smegheads.

"He's written about you a few times," Lister said casually, pointing his fork in Ace's direction, "and doesn't hold back in the retelling of how much of an arrogant, fame-seeking leech you are. He was actually quite the word-smith, when he got going."

Ace suppressed a frown, knowing he had to act as if it was water off a duck's back. "Arnie was always a man of many words, it's true; he could slice a man down in his prime and make him wish he'd never been born, I'll give him that much!"

Cat almost choked on a mouthful of food. "Are you kiddin' me? His words were about as damaging as his combat skills!"

Lister eyed Rimmer for a moment, taking a sip of lager. "Oh I dunno, Cat, there were times Rimmer could be a potentially dangerous adversary... remember the time he created his own world inside his head and he nearly smegged it?"

"Well that hardly counts, he almost got himself killed!" Cat protested. "So unless we're talking about being his own worst enemy, I'd say he was as harmful as a common house fly!"

"Let's not be too hasty in hammering the man for his weaknesses, chum," Ace quickly intercepted, feeling his defensiveness rising in spite of himself. "He's out of this world now, the least we can do is offer him a little respect. He was a good man, by and by, and I'll not hear one more word said against him."

A small smirk twitched upon Lister's lips. "Sorry, Ace man. Didn't mean to offend you, I know he was your parallel self and all."

Forcing down a mouthful of dumpling, Rimmer sent him a little warning glare. "Can't say we were very similar, Skipper. Different lives after a certain point, Arnie just missed out on the opportunities I had."

"Yeah, sure," was Lister's response, rounding up the last few mouthfuls on his plate and shovelling them in. Kryten took the opportunity to grab Ace's attention, leaning over and shaking the half-empty bottle of scotch at him.

"Can I offer you another drink, sir?"

Ace put his hand over his glass, shaking his head; he knew from the slight warm fuzz in the front of his brain that if he didn't slow down he would be sozzled before bedtime. "Not for me, Kryters, but thanks for the offer. Stunning meal, by the way, the best I've eaten in years. Wouldn't want to share that dumpling recipe with me by any chance, would you?"

Kryten's face lit up. "Why, of course sir! I'll be sure to get it to you before you leave! Speaking of which, will you be staying with us this evening? I've only just recently changed the sheets in the guest room -"

"Uh, Kryten," Kochanski interrupted, raising an eyebrow, "aren't you forgetting something?"

"Oh, darn it all," Kryten groaned, "my apologies madam, and to you too, Mr. Rimmer sir. We thought it only polite that Miss. Kochanski take up the bed in the guest's quarters."

"Apparently I'm not a good enough room-mate," Lister said with a shrug. "Didn't hear Rimmer complaining when he was here, did you?"

Ace opened his mouth, ready to leap in on the contrary but was stopped just in time by Lister shooting him a tiny smile, reminding him of his identity and making it clear that the man was just trying to make it difficult for him. No change from the old days. He hesitantly returned the tiny grin, hoping this was a good sign and that Lister had moved on from earlier and what he could only now assume had been the result of a surprise.

"I don't particularly fancy living with you and a dozen creatures formed out of your own filth," Kristine said disparagingly, surprising Rimmer with her derogatory tone. Lister however seemed undeterred, taking a healthy swig of drink and ignoring her.

"Perhaps, sir, you could overlook the rather catastrophic minefield that is Mr. Lister's bedroom and be persuaded to reside in there for tonight?" Kryten's voice clearly invited rejection but, at his offer, Rimmer recalled that he still had yet to get an answer out of Lister as to whether he was happy nor not.

He answered without a pause. "Not a problem, Kryters, I've stayed in far worse. I'll never forget that trip to Okobaros – hell of a place, but not exactly five-star accommodation. The ladies were certainly a friendly bunch, though..."

"Wait a second." Lister looked from Rimmer back to Kryten, index finger wagging back and forth between them. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, I err... I ate my midnight curry in Rimmer's bed last night. Full of poppadom shards."

Ace flicked his hair over his shoulder, using the motion to cast a gaze around to see the rest of the crew's reaction; no one seemed to think anything of it, but he was not fooled. He'd seen his old bed up close, he knew it was as clean as it had ever been, so why oh _why_ was Lister so intent on keeping him out of his room? He had to take matters into his own hands; he stood, flashing a winning smile at the group and patting Cat in an overtly-masculine way on the shoulder.

"Like I said, Skipper, I've spent time on fifth-world planets, no shower or hairstylist to speak of. I'll be fine."

Lister stood abruptly, spilling a little of his pint on the way up. "Hold on, I -"

"I insist," Ace cut in, a steely edge to his tone; standing up to Lister made him feel more like his heroic counterpart than anything else had this evening. "I'm rather tired, Listy my boy, so it's probably best if I head there straight away."

The rest of the crew stood, their disappointment obvious. Cat was the first to speak. "But I wanted us to trade swatches, I had a whole scrapbook to show you!"

"Maybe tomorrow, eh? I've had a long day and I'd much rather be able to focus on such a mission after a good night's shut-eye."

Bidding the others goodbye, he left the room sharpish with the absolute determination to get back to their – no, Lister's – room as quickly as he could. He knew that if Lister somehow managed to beat him there he would find a way to make absolutely sure that, for whatever reason, Rimmer couldn't stay there. Knowing Lister as he did, he'd probably follow through on his curry story and spill a few bits of dried-out chicken onto the sheets before dancing a mess of poppadom crumbs into the mattress.

So why, Ace mused as he stepped through the doors and once again appraised the clean, untouched bed, was Lister so determined to keep him out? There was always the possibility that the diaries he had been reading truly _had_ reminded the technician of just how much he disliked his previous bunkmate; perhaps it was even possible that Rimmer had offended him by leaving, though considering he'd been encouraged by the man to go… it didn't seem to add up to a feasible reason. There had to be something Rimmer was missing, and though once upon a time he would have just called Lister a goit and moved on, now that he had returned after such a space of time… it seemed wrong to leave things this way.

He'd have to get it out of him.

The doors behind him opened.

"For god's sake, Rimmer, what d'you think you were doing in there? They all think I'm rude as anything now!"

Making a point of it, Ace ambled over to 'his' bed and sat down on it, raising his eyebrow at the younger man as if he had somehow been unable to grasp the situation correctly. "To be perfectly honest with you, Lister, I'm under the very same impression myself. Is there a valid reason as to why you don't want me in here, or does the sight of my face really offend you that much?"

Lister frowned, folding his arms over his chest. For a moment it seemed that he would not answer, his eyes trained upon Rimmer as if he could not quite figure the man out.

Finally, he spoke. "Lock."

"…what?"

Dave gestured towards the now-locked door. "If you're going to talk like Arnold then you're gonna need to make sure that no one comes in and overhears you. You can take off that wig, too. You look ridiculous."

Grateful up until the last comment, Ace pulled the wig off with one swipe and laid it on the bed next to him. "You didn't think it looked so ridiculous when _he_ was wearing it." He could not hide the disgruntled tone in his voice. "From what I recall you found it quite charming, the slimy git."

"Yeah, well, that was him, wasn't it?" Lister muttered, walking over towards the small table in the middle of the room and slumping into a chair. He took a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it, keeping his eyes focused elsewhere. "Knowing what's underneath it _now_…"

Rimmer stared at him incredulously, hardly believing his ears. "Where's all this come from? You were the one who told me to do it in the first place!"

"I know I did and I still think it was the right thing to do, it's just hard to put Smeghead and Ace Rimmer in the same package." Lister shrugged, taking in a deep pull of his cigarette and seemingly cherishing the action. "It's nothing against you, I just can't seem to fathom it in me head."

"Well no offence, Listy, but your head is clearly in the wrong place. It's not a case of Arnold pretending to be Ace – I _am_ Ace now, it's the responsibility I've taken and the person I've become. I'm sorry that you can't seem to wrap your head around it, but you should at least try a little harder. _I'm_ trying."

"Yeah, you are," Lister mumbled, flicking ash from the end of his cigarette onto the tabletop. "Look, it's nothing personal. I know you're trying hard, the others are all convinced and other than a few sketchy moments you could've had me convinced too, if I didn't know the truth. Obviously you're doing well for yourself and you're living life completely as Ace now – you're earning the right to be happy for probably the first time in your life and I can see that you _are_ happy. As long as you know that you're where you're meant to be in life, it doesn't matter what I think, y'know?"

The word 'happy' instantly reminded Rimmer of his purpose of the evening. "Glad you brought that up, Lister, as you still have yet to answer my question."

"Brought up what? What question?"

"Happiness," Rimmer said simply, leaning on one arm and looking at the techie with a straightforward gaze. "Do you have it? Are you happy?"

Snorting, Lister shrugged, yet again tapping ash onto the tabletop. It was starting to irritate Ace much in the way that it had irritated Arnold before him. "I'm stuck on a spaceship going nowhere with three other crewmembers, none of 'em knowing where we are. I get up, eat, smoke, drink, sleep and then repeat the cycle. All I get to see day in, day out is infinite space." He stubbed out his cigarette, meeting Rimmer's stare properly. "So yeah, I guess you could say I'm… _over the moon_."

He couldn't hide it; he was genuinely surprised at Lister's blatant negativity. It was true that sometimes the man gave in to brief stints of boredom that slowly tumbled into a very slight unhappiness, but this… there was a deadness to his tone that did not sound much like Lister at all. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Like what? It's only been a few months, man, it's not like you've been gone centuries."

"Yes, but…" He had to put this in the right way. "In all the time I've known you I've never heard you quite so downtrodden. I would have thought you were in a better place now than you ever were when I was here – you've got the love of your life on board, you can pick up where you always wanted to! What about Fiji, your sheep and horses, the dream?"

"Has it escaped your notice that she's in love with another version of me? She's mad about a Hologram who feels things and knows things and is everything she could ever want out of life," Lister said, bitterness seeping from every word. "How could I even pretend to compete with that? Not that I'm even sure I'd want to, she's a nagging cow half the time."

Rimmer leapt on this, eager to invest their time in something that Lister would find easy to talk about – perhaps doing so would lead the man unwittingly into explaining why he was so downcast. "Is she? She seemed perfectly pleasant to me."

"Course she does to _you_, you're sex on legs!"

Rimmer blinked. "I, err… I didn't know you thought -"

"Oh for crying out loud," Lister spluttered, blanching at this; his right knee began to jitter up and down, his eyes darting around as if he had quite lost his place. "I meant Ace, _Ace_ is sex on legs, all that charisma and charm and that silky-smooth sort of voice that makes women's ovaries suddenly explode!"

The new Ace's brow wrinkled; he was still too surprised at the 'you're sex on legs' to think straight, all he could manage was a pathetic, "But I _am_ Ace."

"No, you're Arnold, you're Rimsy Rimmer, my bedtime pal – oh smeg, that's not what I meant," Lister continued to stumble, a gentle flush working its way up and into his cheeks. Rimmer watched in fascination, completely perplexed by Dave's reaction to his own words. "You're the Smeghead I shared a room with for too many years of my life, you're not the guy they all think you are. Kristine sodding Kochanski only seems _nice_ to you because her hormones are telling her you're the man for the job, Ace Rimmer of the Space Corps Special Branch or whatever it's called!"

"Well, whatever," Rimmer hastened to jump in, determined not to let it go down a bad road. "She doesn't seem to particularly _loathe_ you…"

"No, but she seems to think that I'm what her Dave was before he got all _mature_ and _sensitive_." Lister's mocking tone was back, much the same as it had been when he had been mocking Ace before dinner. "I'm the very epitome of all the things she didn't get on with back when her Dave was still alive, y'know? I'm over-indulgent, not in touch with my emotions, obsessed with bad habits that'll kill me before I'm old enough to appreciate what I've got…" His voice trailed off, suddenly lost in a world of thought. "I'm nothing like the guy she loves, Rimmer. I can't even pretend to be."

And there it was, right at the edge of Lister's voice, that old familiar 'burr', that warmth that had evaded his every word to Rimmer since his arrival earlier that day. Whatever emotion had been evoked within the young technician at the thought of Kochanski had somehow made him revisit how he had felt for the old Rimmer, the Arnold-playing-Ace version that had waved goodbye from the cockpit of Ace's craft. Rimmer didn't dare speak, not wanting to lose that warmth, not wanting to risk having to leave the next day without having returned to normal with the closest thing he had ever been able to call a friend. He waited it out, hoping that the silence would encourage Lister.

It did. "What really worries me, as in, keeps me up some nights, is that… I don't even know if I _want_ her to fall in love with me. Yeah, she's gorgeous and funny and so unbe_lievably _clever – you'd have to be mad not to consider… well, you know."

Rimmer nodded.

"But she's not _my_ Kristine. She's all grown up. Sometimes I look at her and it's really hard to see what the big fuss was in the first place, why I even spent half my life dreaming about her riding horses on the beach… is that mad?" Lister didn't let Ace answer. "Course it's mad, she's the kind of woman you die for, isn't she? But there she is, completely and utterly head over heels in love with this other guy who might as well be called Fred Smith or Joe Bloggs something. He's not me, man. I'm not him."

Hesitant, Ace decided now was the time to put something towards the conversation. "That's not quite true, is it? I mean, look at Ace, look at me – I always said he was nothing like me, that there was no way I could ever match up to who he was but now... now that _is_ me. If I can become the very best version of myself then there's no reason that you -"

"But I don't _want_ to change!" Lister protested, standing and throwing his arms out in a helpless gesture. "I shouldn't have to! I know you had to force yourself to become this new version and all, but that's different. You had to change in a short space of time for the good of everyone else, for the good of the universe – for me it'd be changing for the sake of my own fortune, to win the heart of a woman who has already given it to some other guy in some parallel universe. It's not _right_. If I'm going to change then, fine, I'll change in my own time when I'm ready, but I can't force it, Rimmer. I can't become someone I'm not for the sake of... of..."

"Love?"

Silence met the word; it felt almost wrong to have it floating in the air between them, emotions running high as they were – Rimmer almost felt embarrassed, wishing he hadn't spoken. Lister was not looking at him, avoiding his gaze as much as he had been before he had started to bare his soul.

Ace tried again. "It's for the sake of love, Lister. It's a part of you, has been for years; you can't just wish your dreams away."

Lister snorted, turning away. "Dreams mean nothing. They're just... delusions. They're not real."

"Well that's a load of bollocks," Rimmer said bluntly, standing as Lister had done earlier. "What's happened to you, what's turned you into such a cynic? You're the man who's put his entire life in the hands of dreams, and now you're saying they mean nothing?"

"Well when did _you_ become such an advocate, eh? What happened to no-nonsense Rimmer? Did he disappear with the rest of you?"

_That _hurt. "I'm still me, Listy, I'm still -"

"Make up your mind!" Lister cried, whirling around and throwing his hands up in the air. "Are you Arnold or Ace? Smeghead or hero? You can't be both, man, it's not like you can run two Holograms in your body at one time!"

Ace took a few strides towards Lister, withdrawing at the last moment from grabbing the man by the shoulders and shaking him. "I can't even believe you're talking at me like this, it's like you've taken all the positivity in you and thrown them out of the airlock! You _told_ me to become Ace, I don't understand why you're having such trouble grasping what I am now, why we keep going in circles! Please, for gods sake, give me some answers before I go stark raving bonkers!"

Lister took a step back, his lips setting into a cold, hard line. "Then, you're Ace."

"What? What the smegging hell are you on about?"

"If you're going to say all this 'you told me' crap then you've clearly made your decision. You're Ace Rimmer now, _Acey boy_. So don't talk like you know me and like you know what's going on in my head, all right? You haven't got a smegging clue, you never did. All you are is some jumped up arrogant prick who doesn't know the slightest thing about the people you left behind."

"Jesus, what..." Rimmer stopped, deliberately taking a few steps back in his mind and breathing in deeply so as to retain his calm. "I'm trying really hard here, Lister, but you're not making it easy. You seem deeply, desperately confused about something and whatever it is... you're taking it out on me and, considering the whole reason I came back here was to see _you_, it'd be nice if you could pull yourself together and either get over it or talk it out." He tried to meet Lister's gaze but was unsuccessful. "You've got those two options, because right now I can't think of what more to offer you."

At that, Lister moved forward towards him; for one moment he thought the man would grab him, shake him as he had wanted to shake Lister earlier, even perhaps hug him... instead Dave pushed past him, hoisting himself up into his head and lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling.

Rimmer stared, completely and utterly bewildered. "Lister...?"

"I don't want to talk to you anymore tonight," was Lister's reply in taught, tight tones. "I'm going to sleep."

"I'm just trying to understand -"

"Goodnight, Ace."

He tried one last time. "Lister, please -"

"No."

He stared at the man in the top bunk for a few more seconds, waiting for him to change his mind. When nothing came, not one movement, he slowly advanced to his own bed, shucking off his boots and pulling his legs up. Quietly he undressed, all too aware of the sound of Lister's shallow, definitely-awake breathing, leaving only his boxer shorts on as he slipped the covers over his lower half and rested the back of his head in the net of his hands.

Lister's voice came out from above him. "Lights."

The room went dark.

Rimmer spoke once more. "We'll talk about this tomorrow – and don't think we won't. I'm not going to forget."

Silence met his words and, after a few hours, he finally found himself drifting into a fitful sleep, full of confusion, frustration and more than a little concern.

He _would_ find answers, no matter how far he had to go to get them. Lister could count on that.


	3. Chapter 3

In the end, the answers fell into his lap – literally. It had been one hell of a day, most of it spent humouring the Cat's mad fashion show (who knew he'd built up a collection of over 300 suits? - certainly not Ace, though his arse certainly knew it by the end of the parade) and flirting with Kochanski; if he was being _really_ honest with himself he was probably flirting a little with Kryten too, exercising his new power as a master of seduction and finding it more than a little amusing to see the android in such a tizz over some attention. The three of them had, in all measures, had a good day together. It was obvious to Rimmer that tensions had been high before his arrival and that him simply being there was making them all feel more at ease, if only because now they had someone else to give their attentions to, someone who was an all-round positive force and made them feel good about themselves.

_Fancy that_, he had thought to himself, _I'm a positive influence. Who knew?_

It was only once he had returned to the empty bedroom he had shared with Lister the night before that things started to fall into place, that an understanding was finally born. He had slumped into a chair by the table, throwing himself into it with such exhausted gusto that his right foot, heavily booted, had flicked out and kicked the table leg hard; the table jerked at the contact, scraping across the floor and creating such an ungodly noise that for a moment Rimmer failed to notice the new weight in his lap, an object he had not seen before falling from its carefully tacked place underneath the table into his possession as if it were something out of a film. He covered his ears, a faint 'ugh' noise clicking in the back of his throat in disgust at the sound. He shook his head free of it, hands falling back to rest on his legs only to find his fingers brushing against cool, wrinkled material -

Rimmer picked up the notebook in surprise, noting first that it was in terrible condition; ink-stains smudged across the front of it, its leather-bound exterior so creased that the sticker proclaiming _'Rastabilly Skank Rasta's My Skank'_ was barely legible. He ran his hands over it, flipping it over to find the back in much the same condition as the front. Pursing his lips slightly, he turned it back over and carefully pushed the front cover back to reveal the first page, a few words scribbled messily in the front:

**_This is not a new shiny thing, Cat, so get your greasy paws off it and smeg off elsewhere, all right?!_**

He smiled slightly, ignoring the warning that he was sure would have been directed at him, too, were he around, and turned the page. His eyes quickly scanned over the first sentence.

**_I've never really had a diary before, at least not one I actually bothered to write in on a regular basis but, since things are changing around here by the minute I guess it feels like the right time if any to start one._**

His mouth was suddenly incredibly dry. Lister had written a diary. Lister, whom Ace had been sure barely knew how to operate a pen, had written a diary, a diary that held his thoughts, feelings and motivations, a diary that was personal and meaningful, a diary that... held answers.

Surely it held answers.

Surely it wouldn't be too terrible if he read it. Just a little. Just to see what he had missed.

Just to see.

A word escaped his lips.

"…Lock."

The door clicked shut and, with only a moment's hesitation, he flipped to the first full entry – a single sentence.

**_You'd think having Kochanski here would actually be the best thing I coulda hoped for, but as it turns out she's probably the most annoying, nail-scrapingly boring woman I've ever met in my entire life._**

Not an auspicious start for Dave and Kristine, clearly; if this tiny entry was anything to go by, Lister had not been lying about their incompatibility. Rimmer turned the pages, skipping forward a few days. He ignored the first few lines after seeing the words 'had the runs' and continued to read from a mid-way point.

**_What gets to me most is that, even though there are still four of us here, it feels… I dunno, quiet. Kochanski keeps herself to herself – definitely not complaining, all she did the first couple of days was complain and moan and nag – and Cat's usually off doing whatever it is he does when he's alone. Kryten's turned into a smegging bore too, though mostly I think it's to do with Kochanski. He doesn't seem to like her much. Can't say I blame him._**

Scrolling a few pages forward, Rimmer stopped – there it was, his name as bold as brass. He cast his eyes around the room again, knowing that he was alone but suddenly more aware than ever that he was reading something infinitely personal.

His gaze came to rest upon his own diaries – well, if Lister could read _his_ diaries then he'd smegging well read Lister's. He read on.

**_It doesn't really make much sense when you think about it. Me and Rimmer were hardly best buds, but I guess as time goes on I realise that out of anyone, he was the one person that was a constant in my life. No family, no real friends, no girlfriend or wife or whatever… he was kinda the only thing I had going for me. Reading that back it looks really sad and pathetic – Rimmer, the best thing I had going for me, come on! But it's true. No matter what, the smeghead was always there even when I didn't want him to be. I know he was self-centred, arrogant and completely yellow inside and out, but in the end he wasn't really the worst person alive. Or dead. Definitely better dead, or as a Hologram anyway. At least as a Hologram he achieved some sort of personal growth, though whether that was something real or just the expanding of his giant, inflatable ego I still don't know._**

**_It makes me wonder if I'd still feel like this if he was around. He was a pain in the arse but he had a good heart; it feels weird to say it because he was such a self-serving idiot most of the time, but him going off to become Ace and putting aside all of his cowardly crap to become something better, to become someone better not just for his own gain but for the rest of the universe, you gotta think that he had something good in him. He did look out for me, he had to look out for me. He was brought back as a Hologram to keep me sane and like I said in his eulogy, he did just that, he did a great job. He drove me up the wall but… he kept me sane. He kept me going. More than once he kept me alive and I wish I'd been able to tell him that properly. He deserved to know, I think. Maybe he did know._**

Swallowing hard, Ace forced himself to look away from the page, absorbing the information as best he could. He _hadn't_ known. It was true that Lister had said some moderately nice things at his 'funeral' and he'd had no doubt that in the very least he'd managed to keep Lister from going mad, but the way Lister had written it down… it was touching. It touched him. It was as if, at that moment of writing, Lister had appreciated Rimmer's existence in his life and – clearly – had wanted to say the words aloud to him. Why hadn't he said it yet, then? Why was he still holding back?

**_I guess I'll never find out. Fat chance he'll come back once he's had a taste of the wild world out there, women throwing themselves at his feet and begging for one more night, one more minute with him. Lucky sod._**

Laughing out loud, Rimmer moved on to the next entry. It was sloppily written – well, even more sloppily written than the previous ones – and clearly written whilst the technician was extremely drunk. It was a hard scramble to read, especially as Lister seemed to have decided that using all the letters required for each word was beyond him – not to mention the horrifying lack of punctuation and correct grammar.

**_Is true what I wrote before. All those mths, yrs and I nver said thank you. Not proply. Yknow what i realy think, whats really on my mind? I shud have done what those women r doin. I shud have begged got down on my knees and beged him for one more minute, nite, whatever. All I cn think about rite now is tht I wld give so much just to have im walk thru that door, jst so i could say to him 'i care about u, i am glad that u were in my life' but he wont. He will stay as far away as poss becos he has no reason to cum back. Hes living a life far away and he doesnt care anymore. I dont soddin blame him. Peace of crap this ship is, and so am i. spent too much time wishin for kochanskiki and now shes here i want her to go back to her stupid dave and stupid perfect life. I want rimmer back. I want rimmer to come back and I feel like a total spaz for even thinkin. Hes my best mate, he always was and now hes far away and will always be far away_**

Good god, was that really how he felt? Rimmer stared at the words, re-reading them over and over in a desperate attempt to better understand but the truth was there, right there, no denial possible – at some stage, whether plagued by alcohol or not, Lister had poured his heart out about how much he missed him and wanted him back on the ship. It was… horrifying. Lister was not the kind of man who got drunk only to find himself brought to the depths of unhappiness. Something was seriously amiss.

Unable to stop himself, he continued to read; the next few entries seemed to ignore his drunken one completely, centred around the normal goings-on with no mention of Rimmer whatsoever; instead it seemed to focus on Kochanski and his budding respect for her, as well as a detailed but oddly distant account of their trips around the universe. It was all written much as the earlier entries were written – messily but back to Lister's natural way of describing things.

Thirteen entries later, everything changed. Everything. Thirteen entries later, Rimmer could barely breathe. Thirteen entries later he sat on his bed, staring blankly down at the page he had just covered, an alarming sense of knowing he had found the cause of the awkwardness he had so desperately wanted a reason for.

Thirteen entries later, he had found this:

**_I didn't want to write about it, didn't want to put it down into words because I know that as soon as I do I'll regret it. I've talked it over with Kochanski, talked it over with Kryten, almost even told the Cat but… it's still there, still in my head, still… it's not going away. So I'm writing about it. Fuck it. To the me that will read this another time, I'm sorry. I know you're pissed off at me._**

**_I had a dream, simple as. Rimmer came back, wearing Ace's stuff and acting all different. He laughed, smiled, joked around – god knows why he had that party whistle thingymawhatsit but he did. I was just as confused in the dream as I still am now just thinking about it. It doesn't make any sense. His voice was the first thing I heard – 'hello Listy' – and he was just sitting there, looking at me with a tiny smile on his face. He told me about his adventures on Argon 5, made a joke about being decorated as a Christmas tree or something, pulled out that party thing and blew on it, kidding around like it was normal. It was all wrong, to be honest, all wrong because he would never do that. He would never kid around the way he did with me in the dream. I wouldn't want him too, it wouldn't be him if he did that… but anyway, I'm just writing crap now and I need to get to the point. I don't want to but I will._**

**_Suddenly he's asking me about Kochanski, asking if she's better than him – course she isn't, and I joked around about how she hadn't quoted any Space Directives – he laughed at that._**

Reading it to himself, Rimmer had laughed out loud, too. It seemed like just the thing that Lister would have said if they'd had the same strange conversation in real life.

**_Then he said about her being attractive – I said she wasn't that big a deal, but let's face it, she is pretty flipping gorgeous. Thing was, at that point in the dream I was still… I don't know how to put it, star-struck? At that point Kristine sodding Kochanski was the last thing in my mind, all I could focus on was Rimmer in front of me. He seemed to take it well though, just looking at me for a second before asking… ah, god, it's embarrassing, he said something like 'not as attractive as me then'._**

**_And dream me, smeghead extraordinaire that I apparently am when I'm sleeping, said something like 'don't be stupid, she couldn't hold a candle to you' – I'm paraphrasing because it's easier than admitting I remember every word, every movement. God, why did I even start writing this in the first place? I should probably shut up but I've started the job so I might as well finish it, eh._**

_**Where was i… he said that he didn't believe me, said I was just saying it, but I told him I missed him and then he says 'I've missed you too, Listy' and he had this look on his face, so serious, he was smiling before but at this point he just stops smiling and he's looking at me with this intense look – **_

At this point Rimmer had felt his palms start to sweat, having an odd, fluttering inkling, some idea of what was coming and becoming almost frozen as his eyes scanned the words.

**_- and I say his name. I stood up and he says 'Dave' in a way I've never heard before, even thinking about it now makes my stomach feel so weird, I don't even get it, it's just Rimmer! Smeghead Rimmer! Suddenly we were hugging, proper hugging, he hugged me so tight it felt like my bones were being crushed because I always forget how strong he actually is now, all I ever remember is skinny Rimmer from way back before he died. We're hugging and I'm telling him not to leave us again. He says he won't, we've pulled back now, he's looking at me and telling me he won't, I asked him to promise and then… smegging hell, I don't even want to write it down, this was the stupidest idea ever! It was just a dream, it doesn't even matter anyway._**

**_Kochanski says it's because I miss him, and she's probably right._**

He read it again, and again, again until he could practically read the words on his own eyelids. This dream, this stupid bloody dream… was this the reason Lister had been so strange with him? The intensity of it, the not-so-brotherly undertones… good god, no wonder the man was being so odd with him! It was almost a relief, a weight off of his mind, but…

But, then again, it wasn't. Rimmer swallowed again, harder this time, closing the diary and putting it down on the bed beside him as his mind started to race. Lister had made it abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with him anymore, that there was no familiarity between them or at least not enough that it could salvage whatever damage this ridiculous dream had done; why on earth had it bothered Lister so much? Even Rimmer could have told him that dreams were never as they seemed, that every emotion involved in day-to-day life could affect the images projected into their minds within sleep. It was impossible to even imagine that Lister had confused the dream with real feelings, absolutely impossible!

Of course, that didn't exactly explain Ace's reaction. At all. It didn't explain the sweating palms, the slight breathlessness, the absolute and unimaginable racing of his heart as he had read into the words Lister had not said and figured out as easily as 1+1 what had happened after the dream-hug. He could imagine it all so easily as he sat there alone, watched as he pulled away from the hug with Lister and then leaned in, looking into the man's eyes for one agonising moment before –

"Oh smeg," Rimmer whispered to himself, pressing his palms to his eyes as he tried to force the uncomfortable image away. "Oh smegging smeggy hell, Lister, you complete goit."

Then again it wasn't exactly Lister's fault; had Ace not read the bloody diary he would have never found out what Lister had been hiding and would certainly not be imagining things far beyond comprehension at that moment in time… no, it was almost definitely his fault.

"Just put it back," he muttered to himself, standing up rather abruptly and looking around the room in quiet desperation, "just put the bloody thing back and pretend you never even read it. That's the best choice, Arnold. Ace. Ace. Damn it, _Ace_! Put it back and this never happened."

He strode towards the table in front of him and began to fix the diary back to where it had been found – still most definitely the most ridiculous hiding place anyone had ever thought of. He started to tack it back into place, pressing the corners as hard as he could whilst trying to ignore the overwhelming guilt that had begun to envelope him in a hazy cloud – ah, yes, it was definitely his fault. It didn't matter that Lister had read his diaries or that any secrets he had hidden from the man were now common knowledge; the fact was that Rimmer had invaded Lister's privacy and had discovered things that Lister had very obviously not wanted him to know.

"If he'd told me in the first place…" he mumbled, not finishing his sentence as he moved away from the table and backed up until his shoulders hit the top bunk.

He was still holding the diary.

"You really are the biggest twat," Rimmer told himself angrily, moving back towards the table – but too late! There was a shuffling outside the door, a grumble from a clearly unimpressed Lister as the man discovered the locked door; he only had a few seconds before –

"Unlock!"

_Ah, smeggy smeg!_ Rimmer practically tore his jacket apart as he shoved the notebook inside a pocket that was actually just the inner lining (damn it) and pulled it back over his chest just in time as Lister strode in, frowning.

"You're still here?"

Rimmer shrugged, feigning the worst ever false nonchalance in existence as he ambled casually over to the other side of the room and leaned against the counter. "I'm just… chilling."

Lister blinked. "You don't chill. You've never chilled."

"Well, I… it's always nice to try something different! Just the other day I tried a wine I'd never tasted before, adding a bit of spice into my life, you know… different." Rimmer knew he sounded ridiculous but then, holy hell, who could blame him? He'd had barely any time to get over the damned diary entry, let alone prepare himself for Lister's reappearance!

The younger man did not give up easily. "What's the matter with you, man?"

"Nothing, nothing at all! Never better! What's the matter with you is the question!"

Lister narrowed his eyes. "You're sweating."

_Oh, balls._ "I was working out. Pumping the iron. Can't be Ace Rimmer if I'm not going to be all buff and… things."

Worst lie ever. Dave saw through it instantly. "You said you were chilling."

"Oh, well, all right, I wasn't! I was working out, all right? I didn't want you to know because I thought you'd mock me, is that a good enough answer for you?" Ace was losing it, he knew; it was painstakingly awkward. "Talk about the third degree!"

"Whatever, man," Lister said, shaking his head, "I was just asking. Are you heading out soon?"

Rimmer did not miss the hopeful edge to Lister's tone. It grated him despite finally understanding the reasoning behind it. "I might. It depends, really."

"On what?"

_It's now or never, Rimsy. Just do it_. "On…"

Lister pulled himself up into his own bunk, crossing his legs and facing Rimmer dead on. "On…?"

_Do it! Ask him! _"On…"

Impatience radiated from Lister like the stench of rotting meat. "For crying out loud, Rimmer, spit it out!"

"On whether there's anything else you want to tell me. Before I go."

It wasn't quite what Rimmer had planned to ask, and Lister clearly had no interest in giving him anything. Shrugging his dreads over his shoulder, he answered. "Not particularly. Have a safe trip, I suppose?"

Ace shifted from one foot to the other. "That wasn't _quite_ what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I meant… oh, come on Listy, it's been awkward as hell since I came back and you've never really explained why! I know you think I've changed and, quite frankly, I had every reason to change so even if it's true you're not really entitled to hold it against me. And I know you've got your own things to be dealing with, your own emotions and… and thoughts." Rimmer knew he was approaching it, leading up to the big question. He swallowed for what felt like the millionth time that day and continued to speak, unsure of how to broach it. "I don't want to leave Starbug with us like this, Lister. I don't want to leave, possibly never to come back, knowing that there's something weird between us and not knowing how to change it because you won't help me figure out what it is."

Something changed behind Lister's eyes – was he close to giving in?

"Please, Lister," Ace pressed, straightening up off of the counter and leaving his arms awkwardly at his side. "I'm not asking for the world, here. Just… tell me what I can do to make it right."

Finally Lister seemed to give in. "You've… done nothing _wrong_, Rimmer." It was a tired sort of confession, his whole shape giving off an exhausted aura. "It's nothing that you've done, okay? So there's nothing to make right and no apologies to be said. Not from you, anyway."

Rimmer's brow creased. "What do you mean, not from me?"

"It's _me_ who should be apologising to _you_, man. I was a complete arse last night and it's not like I didn't know how I was being. I just couldn't help it, this… I dunno, _unpleasantness_ just came out of me like I couldn't control it." Lister looked down for a moment at his lap. "I'm sorry I was such a twat, Ace. You didn't deserve it, none of it."

Though it wasn't quite what Rimmer had been looking for – an all-out admittance about the dream would have been better – it was at least a start. "Well… thank you for that. I'm not sure I can say I'm completely blameless, but…"

"What d'you mean? Don't go blaming yourself for my 'immature' behaviour!" The background tones of Lister's voice were bitter as he brought up that golden word, the one Kochanski kept throwing at him.

"I'm not, it's just that I know if I had given you some warning, told you I was coming, well, at least you could have prepared yourself. I know you're having issues coming to terms with who I am now and how that fits into our, um, relationship…" Damn it, before the blasted dream nonsense that wouldn't have sounded weird at all. "So, it is my fault a tiny bit. I should have warned you that I was coming."

"When you put it like that it makes it sound like I wouldn't have wanted you to come at all," Lister said with a tiny grin, that same flickering behind his eyes that had been there just before he had apologised. He almost seemed… normal again. "You know that's not the case, man, yeah? It was surprise, that's all. I didn't have time to figure out what I wanted to say, I didn't know how long you'd be staying and I didn't know if you'd even sound like Arnold at all, not to mention act like him."

Rimmer tilted his head to the side slightly in minor bewilderment. "I don't quite understand, Lister. Would you have wanted me to be like the snivelling coward I was before? Do you… prefer him? Because I'm not exactly Ace the way the previous Ace was Ace. Ace. Sorry, I absolutely said that too much there, didn't I? Ace. Bloody name."

"To be honest, Rimmer, you're kind of a mix of both now. I think that's what really threw me, I was expecting one or the other after you'd had a chance to settle into a conversation but you were… Ace _and_ Arnold. Hero _and_ Smeghead."

"Best of both worlds?" Rimmer said hopefully. Lister grinned, a full grin, almost a proper one.

"Weeell, I'm not saying that. Wouldn't want you to get too cocky. But there's an underlying confidence there that I'm not used to – it suits you, don't get me wrong," Lister hurriedly explained, raising his hands so as to assure Rimmer that he meant it in the best way, "but I didn't know quite what to do with it. The whole being both thing, Hero and Smeg… you're kind of _normal_, Rimmer, you've balanced yourself out. And that's really weird."

"Believe me, Listy, I'm not as normal as you think. It's hard, trying to be both. At least when I'm off adventuring I _have_ to be Ace, there's no room for compromise but here I realised as soon as I saw you that I couldn't talk to you like Ace would talk to you. I didn't really want to call you Skipper or slap you on the back; it's not what _I_ would do even if it's what Ace would do. So… you're not the only one who didn't know what to do with the change. I didn't either."

Appraising him closely, Lister finally nodded. "I should have realised it would be difficult for you too. Sorry, man."

Relief flooded through Rimmer like hot tea on a cold day. "Me too. I guess we were both just… uncertain of a few things."

"Understandable, really. We've both been through a lot since you left," Lister mused. "Me with Kochanski, you with... well, everything! You've been through more than we have, mate, that's for sure."

Rimmer cast the comment away with a small hand-movement. "It's all been one big blur, to be honest. Time flies quickly when you're constantly fighting for your life, not to mention a hundred other people's."

"Will it ever get old, d'you think?"

Rimmer considered Ljster's question for a moment; it was one he'd often wondered himself, knowing as he did just how much it could take out of you. He hadn't been born a hero, that was for sure, even if he had thrown himself in head-first. "I don't know. Maybe that was why I stopped by here? I know it's my destiny and all that, but there have been a few moments when I've wondered how every Ace got by for as long as they did. It's tiring, Listy. It takes so much out of me, no matter how hard I try to pretend otherwise."

Lister seemed to think this over. "Yeah, I never thought of it like that. Ace always seemed to be on top form no matter what he was doing, I never really considered how hard it must be to go from being one extreme to the other – not that you were a bad person before. It's just one heck of a change of pace for you, or at least that's what I'm assuming. I feel bad for that too, y'know. That I wasn't more understanding."

Rimmer gazed hard at the man opposite him, suddenly overwhelmed with how far they had come in the shortest space of time; how had they got from being poles apart five minutes ago to suddenly being painstakingly honest with each other? Considering how long it had taken to get from being pains in each other's bums to something akin to friends it seemed almost laughable that it had taken such a turn in such a small number of minutes. As if Lister was thinking the same thing, their eyes met from across the room with a abrupt sense of intensity, Ace's thoughts mirrored completely in the third-technician's dark eyes. It could have been awkward, _should _have been awkward – particularly after all that had been learned by Rimmer in that single day and the new knowledge that could so easily have turned into one hell of an inconvenience – but, miraculously, it instead turned into something whole, something warm, something inexplicably _right_. Their eyes had met and an understanding had blossomed: neither of them had come out of their separation the same person, and neither of them would take what had occurred in their past for granted.

The only question was, where would their future lead them?

Rimmer cleared his throat, breaking the moment. "I appreciate you talking to me today, Listy. Thank you."

It was a goodbye; both men knew it. Lister slid from the top bunk with a gentle thud, walking towards Ace with only the slightest apprehension. He stopped a few yards away, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"No problem, man. I'm glad I got a chance to see you before you disappeared into another dimension. It was good of you to come back, even if it was just a flying visit."

Rimmer gave a flash of his best Ace-grin, extending his hand. "Maybe next time we can get off this damned thing and get a drink or something."

The look they now shared was a strange one; both knew there was very little chance of Rimmer returning again. Lister allowed it, however, nodding and reaching out to grab the taller man's hand. "Too right, matey. It's about time I got off this stinking wreck and had a good night out."

They shook hands, allied once again, sharing one final smile – Rimmer held on to the handshake for a little longer than necessary, giving Lister one more chance to clear his clearly rattled conscience. The air of unfinished business between them was almost suffocating, yet he knew that neither of them would acknowledge it to the other.

It was Lister who broke the contact.

"I'll see you around, Ace."

Pulling on his wig, Ace gave him one short nod. Perhaps it was better this way, then. Better to part as friends than as... well, whatever it would have been had Lister been completely honest with him.

"See you, Davey boy."

Walking through the ship, Ace did not look back. He walked purposefully through each door until he came to where he had phased in less than 24 hours ago, taking great care not to look around him at the familiar surroundings – he was well aware that if he took that chance, if he looked around and saw what he was leaving behind one more time he may never be able to walk away... and that wasn't his destiny. Starbug was not his home. He had no home. That was how it was meant to be and how it would damn well stay if he had anything to do with it.

But.

Reaching inside his jacket for his sunglasses, Ace found his hand closing over a solid shape within the inner lining of his jacket; his heart stopped, realisation dawning upon him like a ton of bricks – he still had the diary. He had _stolen_ Lister's diary. It did not belong to him, was not his to take, yet here he was about to leave with it on his person... and wasn't all too sure that he even wanted to give it back.

Would it be so crazy to keep it? He pulled it slowly out of his jacket, his fingers running over the crumpled leather and dipping within the pages; he closed his eyes for just a moment, remembering the words he head read – words that had touched him, made him see inside Lister's head for the shortest space of time yet had somehow irrevocably changed something inside of him, something deeply rooted and impossible to comprehend. As his fingertips traced over the slight bumps and risings of Lister's scribbled jottings, images of what he had not witnessed himself but had somehow been a part of flooding through his mind, the tension of knowing he had not dealt with what clearly needed to be dealt with became such a presence that it was almost tangible... he could keep the diary and forever be reminded of what he did not hear, what he did not drag out of his best and only friend, yes. That would be easy – a constant ache, possible a constant regret but easy enough. He would be long gone before Lister would ever figure out what happened to his missing diary.

Then again, he could walk right back into that bedroom and demand some answers, confess what he had done and face the consequences.

His hand tightened over the diary, stomach tying itself in knots as he battled his instincts, knowing as he did that they could ruin _everything_ he had just fought to win back -

"Rimmer?"

Footsteps behind him, a soft Liverpudlian drawl.

"I thought you'd gone, man, what are you still doing here? Get out whilst you still can!"

Slowly, surely, Rimmer opened his eyes. Lister's voice moved closer, mere metres away.

"Is everything all right? Have you changed your mind about leaving?"

He found he could not reply, could not move his lips. Lister was now so close he could hear the man breathing from behind him.

"Rimmer? Did you hear me? Have you changed your mind?"

Had he changed his mind?

Finally his lips moved, throat vibrated, answer found. Ace took a deep breath, gripping the diary as if it were a lifeline and turning to face Lister in a move he would surely live to regret.

"Yes."

A smile spread across Lister's face, a smile so open and warm that it temporarily rendered Rimmer unable to respond in kind. "Great! I knew you'd stay for another night, all that talk of going out on the lash! I'll tell Kryten, get him to plot a course for the nearest breathable atmo -"

"No, Dave," Rimmer interrupted. "No."

Lister looked confused, smile slowly fading. "No?"

"No."

The two men stared at each other, confusion and resignation fusing together to create a new tension so great that Rimmer did not know how he would do this, how he would tell Lister everything he had discovered and ask the questions he needed to... but, as it turned out, he didn't need to instigate it. He watched, heart thumping, as Lister's eyes travelled slowly down to Rimmer's left hand and to the object held too tightly in its grasp. Wordlessly, Lister's eyes flew back up to Rimmer's, brimming a story of hurt, betrayal and – quite at the forefront – anger.

He had figured it out, then.

Clearing his throat, Ace met Dave's gaze unfalteringly.

"I think, Lister, that we need to talk."


End file.
